


He Was Loved

by BastardLady



Category: Inn Between (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Got some FRIENDSHIP for ya, i love them, i want meltyre to be HAPPY!!!!!!, trauma besties, wise betty is my fav
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardLady/pseuds/BastardLady
Summary: Betty and Meltyre talk! Wrote this very quickly and impulse posted cuz i felt like it
Relationships: Meltyre & Betty Triguut
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	He Was Loved

It hadn’t been long since their deaths but Meltyre already felt his memories of them waning. He knew it would happen, but he thought he might grow old before forgetting his father’s jovial laugh or his mother's hand in his. _He was just a kid_. He never even had time to grieve. His parents died and he had to take their place, no questions asked. He felt pathetic, but he was also far from shocked. _How typical_ , he thought, _it is for me to mess up something like this._ He was almost too unsurprised to be sad. 

Almost.

The first time he noticed was during a battle. He and Velune had ducked behind a boulder to catch a breath. Meltyre was rapidly scouring his brain for _something_ to ground him. He was panicking. He wasn’t useful like this. He needed to calm down. 

_His mother_. Her soft, sweet voice. The musical lilt that she ended her words on. The almost-whisper that she used to use when tucking Meltyre into bed at night. But when he tried, he couldn’t remember. He willed himself to, but he couldn’t recall. He couldn’t hear his mother’s voice in his head anymore.

_If you spend eighteen years of your life with someone, how could you forget things like that?_ He thought _. How could you forget your mother’s voice? How could you forget the lyrics to the only song your father ever taught you? How could you forget the colors of your parents’ adoring eyes looking down on you? How could you forget them?_

That night, he and Betty were the last of the party awake.

Though they had been victorious, Meltyre felt an awful lump growing in his stomach. He’d spent all of dinner staring down into his glass and not eating. A few times, his party even asked if he was alright; a question that he brushed off with a languid smile.

Except for Betty, who sat in her spot and polished her axe, they dropped off one-by-one to go to bed. 

The two of them sat in their usual seats at their usual table in silence. Meltyre staring into his cup, Betty caring for her various pieces of armor and weaponry.

He’d spent all night wishing to be alone, but now that it was just him and Betty he didn’t mind so much. If any of them would understand, surely it would be her. And she certainly wasn’t asking any questions or forcing him to reveal any secrets. So they just sat there for a while.

When Meltyre finally worked up the courage -- which proved to be a quite daunting task -- he quietly asked, “Betty?”

She grunted in acknowledgement, not looking up from her work. 

“Do you miss your clan?”

At that, she stopped what she was doing and met his eyes. She was quiet for a long moment, before replying, “I miss them all the time.”

Meltyre felt guilty. Like he’d overstepped by bringing it up. But when he looked at Betty she didn’t seem angry _._ Maybe a little sad, but mostly her face was filled with, seemingly, compassion.

“You miss your parents.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

Betty had no way of knowing, but that phrase in and of itself nearly brought Meltyre to tears.

They resumed their silence.

After a while, he said, “I keep forgetting things about them.”

She looked at him with a sort of quiet, kind sorrow. 

“I wish they were still here. Gods, Betty, I just miss them _so much_. I don’t want to have to _remember them_ to _feel them_ ,” his voice was breaking and his eyes were starting to swim. He didn’t have the energy to feel pathetic. He was just _sad._

“You don’t have to remember them to feel them. They’re already right here.”

Meltyre scrunched up his face with confusion and wiped his eyes.

“You are who they made you. You carry your parents in the same way I carry my clan. You bear their love like I bear my Triguut blood. They’re dead, but they’re not gone.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that.

“What were your parents like?”

Meltyre smiled at that question.

“What?” Betty asked.

“Thank you, Betty,” Meltyre said, “for everything.”

She smiled softly and motioned for him to continue.

Meltyre talked for a long time about his parents. He told her all about how his mother was the cleverest person he’d ever known, in both intelligence and spirit, despite her life of hardship. He told her about how his father was apt to kindness and how easily he gave into love. He told her about his memories of learning how to cook, and his memories of taking long walks in the forest, and his memories of realizing his magic. 

How his parents painted his life in bright colors to make him feel unafraid. How his parents had filled him up with so much love that he would forget they lived in a tiny house with too little food and no clean water. How his parents would work all night and day to make him and his sisters feel _safe_ and _special_ and _wanted._

He talked about how he spent his life in constant fear that they’d never have enough money or food to survive, but that it was never tragic. Because even despite the dismay of being pitted against a world much bigger and richer and scarier than him, his parents instilled the knowledge that he was cherished. He wasn’t alone. 

And Betty was right. Because he would never be alone. He had _them_. He had his _sisters._ And now, he had his party. 

He would take them and their love wherever he went, and maybe that was the point.

Betty and Meltyre talked for a very, very long time. For the first time, Meltyre got to be a kid. He got to be emotional. He got to cry. He got to mourn. He got to cling to his memories. He got to air all the feelings that he'd kept to himself in the effort of being strong. They talked until Tessa dimmed the candles and forced them to go to their rooms. 

When they stood up, Betty reeled Meltyre into a hug. He wordlessly hugged back.

“Thank you, Meltyre.”

“You too, Betty.”

Meltyre slept like a log as old and new memories floated through his dreams. He was safe. He was happy. He was loved. And that was a wonderful, wonderful thing.


End file.
